


see you at the bitter end

by ferne



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alive L (Death Note), Also Linder and Mello are cute, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, I hate (most) of the second half of Death Note so I'm fixing it, International travel abounds, L thinks Misa is actually pretty fucking smart, Lots of disguises, Misa has an older sister named Maeko, Misa is a badass, Misa is lowkey a genius (this is canon don't argue w/ me), Rem actually uses some critical thinking skills, There's violence and stuff but no more than in the original, Wammy House, Watari lowkey ships misa and l
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferne/pseuds/ferne
Summary: "As far as the rest of the world knows—Misa Amane died a little under two days ago."When Misa discovers that the man Kira killed as 'justice' for her parents was innocent, she begins to unravel Light's control over her. After learning that L is in fact alive, she dedicates herself to tracking down the elusive detective in order to bring down Light once and for all. However, as more players enter the game in the form of L's 'heirs' Misa finds herself at the centre of bitter fight for survival.[In which I say 'hold my beer' to canon in order to write a better second half of Death Note]
Relationships: Amane Misa/L, Halle Lidner | Halle Bullock/Mello | Mihael Keehl
Comments: 62
Kudos: 127





	1. dead girl walking [prologue]

**Author's Note:**

> note: the dates/times/locations are IMPORTANT bc the chronology of this is lowkey all over the place

**October 15th 2011, 02:35 AM - Everett Gardens Inn, London**

Despite the late hour, there are voices ringing down in the street below. Misa wants to go to the window, to push up the blinds and watch the figures wandering through the orange street lights. It's not like they'd recognise her if they saw her. Hell, _she_ barely recognises herself. Even so, her pulse picks up and breathing gets a little more difficult just thinking about it. _Light can't find you, he isn't_ _even looking for you_. She repeats it to herself like a mantra as she moves around the small room, fiddling with the furniture. 

She tells herself that she's looking for any fun complementary items—mints or some shit. That's a lie. No one puts their hand to the back of every drawer looking for fucking mints (there aren't any there anyway).

Still, she doesn't find any wiretaps either, so she calls it a success and flops back onto the bed, flicking on the television.

The  plasticky sheets crinkling loudly beneath her. It’s almost laughable. A few months ago she would’ve turned her nose up at these sort of accommodations: bed sheets that feel like crepe paper, shampoo like dish soap, and a microwave that sparked when she tried to heat a cup of water in it. Remote in hand, she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and flicks through the channels. Nothing but local news, static, and a single cooking show with an older woman baking some kind of sweet roll. 

She leaves the cooking show on as background noise, anything to keep her from straining her ears to catch every sound throughout the rest of the building. 

_Light can't find you, he isn't_ _even looking for you_.

Even with the laughable amenities, the room is all right. There’s no sensation of eyes watching her every move, waiting for her to break her end of a bargain that’s more of a half-hearted truce than anything. 

Exhausted, she turns up the television volume in a bid to stay awake and clambers off the bed, kneeling down in front of her suitcase. A single black carry on case, small enough to be tucked beneath her seat. Something she never has to let out of her sight. 

Fingers clumsy, she clicks it open and removes the items within. A laptop and charger. A book she'll probably end up hollowing out for storage instead of reading. Two sets of clothes, aside from those she wears: two pairs of black jeans, two button down shirts—one white, one black, underclothes, and a heavy grey pullover. They’re half-disguise, half-disappearing act. She can’t help but frown at the garments. They’re necessary, she knows that, but still, she’d be lying if she said they were anything but drab. 

Misa Amane would never dress this way. 

Then again, as far as the rest of the world knows—Misa Amane died a little under two days ago. 

Beneath the clothes is what she’s really looking for though: a scrap of paper a little smaller than the palm of her hand. 

She already knows what it says, she’s an actress after all. Memorizing a few lines is nothing. Still, she needs to see it though. Needs to have the words emblazoned on her eyes one more time. 

The address to Wammy’s House stares back at her in the same scratchy hand she sees whenever she shuts her eyes. 

She printed out a bus route that’ll get her close enough in an internet cafe before stopping at this hotel. There’s no way this address is the actual street it’s on, but hopefully it will get her close. From there….she’ll figure it out. No doubt the orphanage is as elusive as its members, if not more. Elusive and likely going to be displeased by her arrival there, _certainly_ by the request she needs to make.

Dead or not, she’s Misa-fucking-Amane. She slipped out of Light’s fingers, she can do this. 

Beides, it’s not a matter of ‘can’ or ‘can’t’ any longer, she reminds herself. She will because she must. 


	2. the more i see (the less i know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because. Kira. is. Wrong.”

**1st August 2007, 08:14 PM - Kira Investigation HQ, Tokyo**

“Do you need to take that?” Mr. Yagami asks, brows furrowed in concern.

Her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket. It’s been going off every few minutes for the past hour. No doubt it’s her management calling since they’ve been informed of the end of her ‘meditative sabbatical’ or whatever excuse Ryuzaki had given them.

“It’s nothing.” She waves her hand in the air. “They can wait, I’ll just call them back later. Besides, I want to see the rest of this place!”

What she’s seen so far of the headquarters is nothing short of austere: nothing but metal desks, blinking monitors, and enough metal detectors and cameras to make anyone skittish. Still, after over a month in solitary, with nothing but the occasional questioning by L, it seems like paradise.

“Come on, Light!” She looks back over her shoulder at him. “He said that we have our own floors and everything. Let’s check them out.”

“I should probably get caught up on the case first,” Light says, a creased frown passing over his face. “It’s been awhile since I had the opportunity to review what’s happened thus far.”

Light is...far less enthusiastic about the prospects than her. She can only assume it has something to do with the chain running between him and Ryuzaki. Even so, they’re (almost) free, he should at least be a _little_ happy.

“No, I believe Miss Amane is correct,” Ryuzaki breaks in, shuffling up the steps to stand beside her. He tugs the chain and jerks his head at the winding staircase. “Come along.”

The facility is cold for the most part. The majority of the floors, L just leads them up the stairs without stopping. When Light presses him about it, he only mutters “jurisdiction” and moves on. The identical hallways and locked doors quickly blur together in her mind.

By the time they reach the tenth floor, which Ryuzaki announces as hers, Misa feels exhausted, moving on shaky legs.

“You have free reign over the rooms on this floor,” he says, gesturing to the single door which greets them off of the stairs. Someone’s taken the time to hang a small wooden sign on the door with her initials emblazoned on it. “It’s an apartment with kitchen, laundry services, and other necessary amenities.”

“A whole floor?” Light sounds incredulous.

“Don’t be jealous, we have virtually identical accommodations on the floor above,” Ryuzaki says, pointing at the ceiling. “You won’t be too far from your girlfriend. Though I suppose these—” he jingles the chain between them.”—could pose an issue.” He shrugs dismissively, ignoring the look of irritation on Lights face when his back is turned.

She reaches out and squeezes Light’s arm. “Don’t worry! You can visit me everyday! The three of us will have tea and cakes and—” Her phone buzzes again loudly making her stop short. It doesn’t matter. Based on Light’s expression, her suggestions weren't making him feel better anyway.

“Maybe you should answer, Misa” Light suggests, brows scrunching. She can’t tell if he’s concerned or curious. Probably both. “They keep calling back, it might be important.”

“Light’s correct. Besides, above this is only the floor belonging to Light and I. After that, neither of you have the clearance to access.”

“We’re aiding you with the investigation,” Light snaps. “You must be joking. We;re expected to live here but can only access, what? Maybe fifteen percent of the entire facility?”

“Come on, Light,” She breaks in. there’s a headache forming behind her eyes, the last thing she wants to hear is fighting. Besides, it’s not even that bad, she tries to convince herself. She’s got her own floor and so does Light. Sure he’s chained to Ryuzaki, but that’s just like having a roommate…a roommate keeping surveillance on you. And watching your every move. Even she has to admit, it doesn’t sound great. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

His lip twitches, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Goodnight Miss Amane,” Ryuzaki says, turning and shuffling toward the next set of stairs. “We’ll meet you here at eleven AM to discuss the nature of your stay here.”

“Goodnight Ryuzaki!” She waves. “And sweet dreams to you Light!” She blows him a kiss that he doesn’t see as he’s already turned and is heading for the stairs as well. Moments later they disappear and she’s left alone in the short hallway. The building is…silent. Completely so. It reminds her of the time she’s spent in recording booths for commercial jingles—like the rest of the world has disappeared, or she’s trapped inside of a vacuum.

She shakes her head stubbornly. “No! Do not get creeped out Misa, you’re only stressed because it’s your first night at a new place. Come on. Let’s check it out!”

No doubt there are cameras all over and she must sound ridiculous, but hearing her words echo back gives her some modicum of comfort.

“Time to check this place out,” she announces, grasping the door handle and stepping inside.

In truth, she was unsure of what to expect. When Mr. Yagami had told her that she’d be staying at the new headquarters along with the rest of the Kira investigation; she'd pictured a prison cell. Or at least a small, grey room with only a single window.

Her new quarters are...not that.

She takes a few hesitant steps in, eye skimming across the open concept living room and kitchen. The furniture and styling are crisp, modern. Clearly whoever picked out the items had taken into her accounts. The plush red couch and velvety-looking black heart throw pillows are something she’d have picked for herself. Even more so are the shiny crimson kitchen cabinets and litany of stainless steel cooking supplies carefully lined up beside the sink.

Better than all of it though are the wide, floor to ceiling windows that allow her to look out over the Tokyo skyline, like a sea of glittering lights in the dark. Beside the window is a massive zebra-striped rug and a low coffee table she already plans on taking most of her meals at.

She forces herself to continue through the apartment, lest she get entirely distracted by digging through her new furnishings.

A door at the far side of the living room segwayed into her bedroom. It’s as crisply decorated as the rest of the apartment; however, it’s a little softer. The layout mimics that of her old apartment she realizes suddenly. Hell, it’s more than a resemblance. She pulls open the closet and is greeted by all of her old clothes. The figurines on the shelves. The throw blanket over the couch (a gift from Maeko on her birthday). Someone cleaned out her old place and brought a good amount of her things here.

She doesn't know whether she’s more relieved or disturbed.

There are two bathrooms. The master bath she finds off of her bedroom, with a large clawfoot tub and a red, heart-shaped sink. A smaller, plain white one extends off of the main living room.

After giving everything another quick once-over, she sits heavily down on the zebra rug in the living room.

Carefully, she fixes her eyes out on the horizon, trying to distract her racing thoughts. The apartment is...nice. Homey. Almost concerningly so. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that the really believed she isn’t the second-Kira. She bites down on her cheek, trying to keep her fear from overwhelming her. How else can she show them?

“No!” she snaps forcefully, voice echoing through the empty room.

This is like a callback. They’re almost certain he’s cleared of suspicion, this is just the last bit. The confirmation. She’s been through the worst of it. Now she had somewhere nice to live where she could roam (relatively) freely and even see Light! “This is good.”

She almost believes it.

Besides, she reminds herself. Even if things get bad again, she knows how L—Ryuzaki—works now.

The first time it happened, she really thought she would be tortured. Trapped in that room, blindfolded with the sound of Watari sharpening knives and preparing god knows how many other means of inflicting pain. The rapid demands still bang around her head:

_You are the Second-Kira, are you not?_

_We know Miss Amame. Explain your methods._

_We believe Light Yagami to be the first Kira. Fold and we will show you lenience._

_How do Kiras kill?_

_Do you really think we will let you go without an answer?_

All the while she could hear Watari drawing closer, the sharp crape of metal filling the room. Then, just before the first sting of pain there was instead….nothing.

_Fine. We’ll leave you then. Confinement of this nature is a far more effective tool than any form of torture._

And just like that, Watari disappeared along with all the knives. He returned each day for her meals and to allow her to use the restroom. Other than that she was simply….alone.

The second time, she hadn’t seen it coming because it was Mr. Yagami. Honestly, he should consider a career in acting considering that performance. The tears, the anger, it was flawless.

But behind it all was L, and L revealed his tell—a feint. A bluff.

Which means she’s safe. Even if things get bad again, it’s not like any real harm is going to come to her at the hands of the task force. Hell, if she’s amicable enough, maybe they’ll even let her and Light go sooner.

Of course, she’s not going to say anything against Kira, but still, it’s not like she really knows much about him aside from what the news articles have said.

She’s useless to them, and once that’s been proven she’ll be free.

Her phone buzzes again, playing a familiar chipper tune. Laying back down on the rug, she flips it open.

“Misa-Misa here!”

“Misa, thank goodness, it’s Maeko!” Her sister's normally-calm voice bursts from the phone. “I got the email from your management saying you were on a no-tech retreat, but still, you couldn’t have called and told me?”

Guilt wells up in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to worry Maeko, but then again, it wasn’t as though they’d given her much of a choice. At her repeated inquiry while confined, they informed her that they’d sent an email posing as her management to her sister informing Maeko that she was going on a tech-detox sabbatical to reduce her modelling stress.

“Sorry Mae-Mae!” her sister groans at the nickname, but doesn’t protest. “It was very sudden. I didn’t mean to worry you at all.”

A tired sigh crackles through her phone speaker. “It’s alright. I understand that your schedule is...abnormal. Still, next time, maybe just tell me in advance. I might not mind going on one of those myself.” She laughs a little at the end and some of the tightness in Misa’s chest eases.

She relaxes back against the fluffy rug, twirling her hair around one finger. “Oh, it wasn’t that great. Lots of meditation and quiet time.”

Maeko makes a thoughtful sound but doesn't comment. This is how their conversations usually go. Misa fills in all the little silences and gaps with chatter. She doesn’t mind. She’s good at it, and by the end of the call her sister will have warmed up.

“I actually just moved to a new place,” she says, trying to think of how to explain the situation. “It’s bigger than my old apartment, so that’s nice. It even has a full kitchen!”

“Wow.” Maeko sounds genuinely surprised. “So soon, huh?"

“Yeah,” Misa says carefully. “The old place was cramped and I got a great price on rent through management!”

“Sounds like a good deal then,” Maeko chuckles. “Maybe you should have gone into business.”

“Business is boring and the clothes are ugly!” Misa laughs. They’ve had this conversation dozens of time. It’s safe and comfortable.

For a few minutes they chat aimlessly. At her pestering Maeko tells her a little about the man at her work who she’s begun dating. Misa fills her in on her new apartment and makes up little details about her “retreat” to put her sister at ease.

“Hey, why did you call so many times?” Misa asks, recalling the repeated buzzing of her phone. “Is everything okay?”

She hears Maeko hesitate on the other end of the line. In her head she easily pictures her older sister, fiddling with her glasses the way she always does when nervous.

“Mae-Mae, come on, you wanted to talk about something right?”

“Kira’s a monster.”

Misa rolls her eyes. “Come on. We’ve already talked about this. I know that you don’t see Kira the same way as I do but—“

"No, Misa. He was wrong about our parents. He—he killed an innocent man.”

Everything stops. “What?”

“You’ve been out of touch for a month, so I couldn’t contact you. But they finally cracked it. It wasn’t him Misa. He had a cousin. It’s a DNA match. It makes sense that you got it confused…they must have looked almost identical in the dark and no one thought to check for his brother as he was supposed to be on a business trip then.” Maeko’s voice gets thicker with tears as she speaks. “Anyway, he’s dead. A car crash a couple months ago apparently. Not by Kira.”

For a long moment there’s nothing but silence on the phone. Misa can’t think. Can’t breath. The white tiled ceiling swims in front of her eyes. There has to be a mistake. Maeko must be wrong.

“What are you saying?” Misa’s voice comes out frail. Small. Nothing like it should be. “It’s Kira, he punishes the guilty who aren’t brought to justice. He wouldn’t—“

Maeko cuts her off again. There’s no doubt she’s crying but Misa knows that there’s probably anger there too. Determination. “I’ve been digging. There’s been hundreds of people whose names have been cleared. After Kira’s brought them to ‘justice.’”

“Why are you telling me this?” She shouts, sitting up. It feels like the air is pressing in on her, choking her.

_“Because. Kira. is. Wrong.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A second chapter! I hope you enjoy reading this update! Stay safe and healthy!


	3. your head will collapse, there's nothing in it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's alone but she's been alone before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW: BRIEF MENTIONS OF PAST DISORDERED EATING & THE MODELLING INDUSTRY!**

**2nd August 2007, 05:42 AM - Kira Investigation HQ, Tokyo**

When the first red fingers of dawn creep over the horizon, Misa finally gives up on sleeping. She's managed to dip in and out of a haze a few times, but most of the night has been spent gazing blankly forward. She pushes herself up, shoulders aching from lying on the floor for so long, regardless of the soft zebra carpet.

It's still before six. There's no way anyone else will be up now. Good. She doesn't want to see them anyway. It'll become unavoidable at eleven— no doubt even if she complains of a migraine Ryuuzaki won't let her off the hook for their discussion of headquarters rules.

Which means she has five hours to pull herself together.

Light-headed, she digs through the kitchen cabinets till she finds a glass and gulps down a cup of icy water.

"Come on Misa," she whispers. "Just pretend its a part. You can play a part right?"

Some part of her brain reminds her that there's probably cameras in every room of this place and so looking normal should be her priority. It doesn't matter. Twelve hours ago she had a gun to her head, a little shock is warranted.

Besides at this hour it'll likely be Ryuuzaki surveying the footage and in this moment she doesn't really care what he thinks of her, even though his impression is logically the most important of all.

Head slightly clearer, she heads to her room. She hadn't been able to stomach it the night before and remained out on the rug in the living room. Now, with morning light streaming through the window, she can manage to pull workout clothes out of the wide black dresser and tug them on.

Despite her exhaustion, she's practically vibrating with energy, the urge to flee making itself known with shaky hands and jittery knees. It's nothing that a workout can't fix though, and besides, it'll get rid of some of the pallor in her face while she's at it.

Thankfully, the gym is one of the few floors she can recall from last night's "tour." She heads to the stairs, which feel infinitely colder as she climbs down them alone. At least the periodic windows in the stairwell let in a little golden morning light.

If she's honest, the design of the building isn't half bad—austere, sure—but at least it has some artful choices like the frosted glass steps beneath her feet. If she tries, she can almost convince herself that it's merely an avant garde hotel that's hopped on the brutalism trend, rather than some kind of art deco cage.

When she arrives at the gym, her hope that it might be empty quickly deflates. She can hear a sharp slapping sound from within, like someone striking a punching bag or jumping on a mat. _It's probably just Matsuda,_ she tells herself, besides, it'll look bizarre if someone's seen me come all this way just to turn back.

Steeling hersrlf, she pushes the door open and steps inside. The gym is more broken up that she aniciptated, with signs pointing down interior corridors with labels like "treadmills & cardio machines," "open floor," and "weight room." The noise seems to be coming from the open floor area so she heads down the hall to the treadmills. Cardio has always been her preferred form of exercise anyway. She ran on the track team in junior high and the habit's stuck.

A half-dozen gleaming treadmills greet her as she rounds the final corner in the hallway. Similar to her room, they face a wall of glass, allowing runners to see out into the city.

After a couple minutes of stretching, she steps into the treadmill farthest from the door and breaks into a jog. It's pathetic, how quickly she begins to feel the strain in her muscles. A month locked in a room with no physical activity to speak of must have taken more of a toll than she originally thought. Defiantly, she turns up the speed till she's at a flat out run, breath coming in sharp pants.

Running. She knows how. She's always been good at it. That's why they sent her not Maeko. If she doesn't shut it out, she can still hear her father's voice, whispering to her: _Run, Misa, run and get help._ She's been too weak back then, faster than Maeko, but still too slow to help them.

Not anymore though. She's not like that anymore. Now when she has to run she's ready.

She can't run Maeko's statement though, the one that's been chasing itself in circles through her mind again and again since they got off the phone: _Kira. Is. Wrong._

God doesn't make mistakes. A simple, concrete statement that has been drilled into her. God doesn't make mistakes and his will is omnipotent.

Kira is God.

_Kira is wrong._

Kira makes mistakes.

He's killed the wrong people.

Killed the innocent.

God doesn't make mistakes.

_God doesn't make mistakes._

Her foot catches and she barely is able to catch herself on the handrails, jumping off the conveyor belt before she's sent flying backwards. The room is silent except for her rapid panting and her heartbeat pounding in her ears double time.

Kira is no God.

She manages to step off the machine before her legs give out and she crumples to the ground.

She's alone again. She'd thought—believed—that God would protect her. Protect her family and the other good people of the world. Then...He proved her wrong. Proved that the angels she'd clasped her hands for and murmured to were nothing more than statues.

But then there was Kira, her new, glittering vengeance. Finally, a God who she could understand—one who dealt in blood and justice. Someone human enough to burn with the same anger that keeps her moving.

But Kira is no God, no divine avenger, and Misa Amane is alone.

A muffled slap from the other side of the gym rings out making her huff. Right, 'alone' doesn't exist in this place. Hopefully whoever's watching now will merely think she's feeling ill from pushing herself to hard on the treadmill. It's believable enough. Hell, her stomach is in knots, even if it's for a different reason.

She catches sight of her reflection looking back at her. For a split second, she looks just like she used to...eyes bloodshot from tears with dark circles beneath. Breathing hard with clenched fists. She looks...dangerous. Desperate. That won't do.

Slowly she stretches, forcing herself to breathe in and out evenly. There's no need for torn muscles and strained tendons if she can avoid it. In and out. Inhale air and exhale anger.

Self-destruction is not an option.

By the time she's done she's talked herself into feeling better. Maybe she really does. Her shakiness is gone and her appetite has reared its head for the first time in weeks.

She's alone but she's been alone before. "Misa-Misa doesn't need anyone else," she whispers, wiping her brow. "She's strong enough to do this alone."

Once again another plasticky impact rings through the wall, an irritating reminder that her solitude is an illusion.

_Who even works out this early? Light?_ It's not out of the question. He'd mentioned tennis once, perhaps he's training to stay in shape. Maybe he'd be impressed to see her there, making fitness a priority.

It's a long shot for sure, but that doesn't stop her from creeping down the hallway from the cardio room toward the open floor area. When the last corner comes into sight she slows further, pressing herself to the wall. Please, don't let anyone be watching this.

Tentatively, she pokes her head around the corner. The layout is much the same as the cardio room, though instead of treadmills, the room has squishy passes mats on the floor and the walls.

Misa barely notices that though, all her attention drawn to the figure in the corner of the room, who is viciously attacking a punching bag with kicks and hits. For a split second she thinks it night be Matsuda, but no, the build is all wrong. Too slender and eerily fast.

Ryuuzaki—except he looks nothing like the man who departed up the stairs with Light the night before. Dressed in black workout gear with his hair pulled back he looks like a different person entirely. Perhaps moreso than the outfit, his expression is what is most different—the blank gaze is nowhere to be seen replaced by something akin to barely contained anger: narrowed eyes and a papercut mouth. As she watches, he strikes the bag with a smooth, practiced roundhouse kick, whirling to face her. She ducks just in time, back pressed to the wall.

_Shit, shit, shit!_ She might not technically be doing anything wrong, but somehow, she's almost certain that this is something she is not supposed to have seen—

The sound of Ryuuzaki hitting the training bag resumes, ringing out in the silent gym.

Misa creeps back from the entrance, heart pounding. It's only when she has shut the door behind her and climbed the first flight of stairs back to her room that she allows herself to breathe again.

That was way too close for comfort. Even though her reasons for being there are perfectly justifiable, the last thing she needs is any sort of suspicious behavior.

Which means she needs to behave normally, like everything she's done this morning has been entirely typical and not at all extremely weird.

Back at her room she takes a hot shower to scrub away the sweat and grime. She hadn't thought to check the night before, but she's relieved to find that there's no cameras in the bathroom. She does find a mic tucked under the medicine cabinet. No doubt the cameras lenses would have fogged up, rendering them useless. She files away the scrap of information under 'Things She Shouldn't Know' and moves on.

Apparently, the combination of an hour of running the surreal experience of seeing Ryuuzaki take part in physical activity is enough to make her hours of consciousness catch up with her all at once. Eyes heavy, she sets an alarm for nine-thirty and crawls into bed falling into a dreamless sleep.

She wakes to the blaring beep of her alarm, climbing out of bed to slap it off on it's shelf across from her bed. The little red alarm clock sits in the same place it did on her old apartment, on her bookshelf across the room—a trick Maeko had taught her to help get out of bed. She shivers and does her best not to think about how eerie the similarities between the rooms are. _It's just the task force trying to make her feel at home,_ she tells herself over and over again as she gets dressed. _It's just them trying to help._

The living room and kitchen are easier to be in. They feel more like a new space, one inspired by her tastes no doubt, but they lack the unsettling replica quality of the bedroom.

Her stomach rumbles loudly upon entering the kitchen, reminding her of her hunger.

Someone's taken the time to stock the shelves and fridge with staples at least. She finds herself going through the motions of making pancakes. Not the most, nutrient-filled of meals, but a few scoops of protein powder added to the batter and plenty of fresh fruit on top will fix that.

This was perhaps, her greatest act of rebellion against her profession. She'd seen the other models at her shoots, the ones with visible ribs and wide eyes. She'd _been_ one of them for the longest time.

But then she'd been told to _run_ and found that she couldn't. Had felt her stomach cramp up and her bones rattle against one another with every step.

That can't happen again—won't happen again.

So she ate pancakes, put on hard muscle underneath frills, changed her management, and swore that there was nothing that would slow her down again.

The pancakes make a satisfying slap against the griddle as she flips them, revealing golden brown coloring. Perfect.

Her move to Tokyo had been so frantic there hadn't been much time for cooking and obviously, none while confinement. It's... peaceful. The soft morning light on her back and the rising smell of breakfast. If she shuts her eyes it might even feel like home.

She's flipping the last of her pancakes (always make at least two batches was her mother's motto) when there's a sharp knock at her door.

"Misa?" It's Lights voice! "We're here to talk about house rules."

"Come in!" She says, shuffling the final pancake onto a plate.

Light opens the door and walks inside, followed by a hunched Ryuuzaki. She blinks at the chain connecting them. It hadn't even occured to her that Light was missing when she had seen him at the gym earlier. They must have come up with an agreement for sleeping.

Light looks no worse for wear, dressed in a crisp maroon shirt and tan pants. The sunlight glances off his cheek, painting him in gold hues, like some sort of biblical renaissance portrait. He'd look the part of an angel, if not for the frown pulling down at his lips as he watches Ryuuzaki perch on the couch.

"Morning, Light!" She calls, waving. "I just finished making pancakes for breakfast! Would you like some? I've got fruit and honey to go on top. I've got tea too!"

"I'll just have some tea," Light says, lingering by the door before sitting down as far from Ryuuzaki as possible while remaining on the couch.

"Miss Amane, if your offer extends to me I would like to have some tea and pancakes as well." Ryuuzaki doesn't look back as he speaks. Somehow, despite that fact, she can't help but feel watched. Still it makes sense he'd want pancakes and tea. In the brief amounts of time they'd spent together she'd seen him consume more than enough sweets.

"Of course it does!" She busies herself fixing two plates of pancakes and three cups of tea, setting them on the coffee table and taking a seat on the other couch opposite where they sit. "I put milk and sugar in yours, Ryuuzaki, I hope that's alright."

He nods. "Thank you."

"How did you two sleep?" This is safe territory. Small talk is practically second nature now. Like breathing. That was always Maeko's flaw, the thing that set them apart. They'd both grown quiet after their parents' murder but she stayed that way. Misa learned to talk, to chatter freely so that others drop their guard and think they know you. She tries not to think of like though. She likes to believe that it helps people feel safe, comfortable with her despite her fame.

"Fine," Light says dismissive. "Thankfully Ryuuzaki is satisfied by removing the cuffs and instead cuffing me to my own bed." Clearly, Light doesn't think it's much of an improvement.

"That doesn't sound very comfortable." She frowns at Ryuuzaki who is entirely occupied by slicing a wedge of pancake and stuffing it in his mouth. "Couldn't you just lock him in a room alone?"

"Either he's cuffed to a bed or he's cuffed to me," he says coolly. "I gave him both options."

Now that's a conversation-killer if she's ever heard one. For a few minutes they sit and eat their breakfasts in silence while Light looks on with a steadily growing look of frustration. With a heavy breath he sets down his teacup in the saucer.

"Well, are you not going to tell her what you said earlier?" He shoots Ryuuzaki a dark look that the other man ignores in favor of another bite of honey-soaked pancake.

"I was under the impression that we were here to discuss house rules." He speaks around the food in his mouth, shrugging. "But if you want, I'll repeat myself: I find that I have little motivation to keep up our present line of inquiry into the Kira case." He looks up at her as he says this, face blank.

She takes a sip from her cup to occupy her hands. "What do you mean by that?"

He huffs. "In short, I'm depressed and feel no urgency to continue my pursuit of Kira."

_Bullshit!_

She screams the word so loud in the confines of her head that for a second she's afraid that it's played out over her face. Misa is no stranger to depression, to the disinterest and weighty-limbed feeling that comes with it. But she saw Ryuuzaki move that morning with viper-like determination. There was no one around to watch that (besides her) so it must have been more honest than this "admission." But what does he have to gain by trying to convince Light and perhaps her that he's lost the will to pursue Kira?

"You must be joking, that's ridiculous." Light's hands are balled into fists on his lap. Shoulders twitching like he wants to reach out and hit something. Or someone.

"There's no reason to proceed with a move if we stand to gain nothing from it," Ryuuzaki says, shrugging and looking back down at his pancakes. He pushes the last few bites around with his fork contemplatively, as though he's actively ignoring the weight of the conversation.

Light lurches to his feet, the chain jangling between them. "Ryuuzaki"

Dark eyes flick up from his food and lock on hers. There's something there behind a cool mask. Something sharp and awake. _He knows._ He knows she saw him training earlier.

He turns just as Light's fist collides with his face, sending him lurching backward and taking Light with him. Limply, he slams against the wall, sliding downwards. Oh, so that's the bluff this time. The gambit of this new game. Letting Light assume he's weak enough not to fight back.

Part of her wants to tell Light to watch out, but when she stands and opens her mouth only a gasp comes out.

"You can't just throw a fit because your deductions about Misa and I were disproved!" Light snarls.

"An eye for an eye." Ryuuzaki's foot slams upwards against Lights jaw, making them both topple toward the couch and her once again.

She staggers backward away from them, foot squishing in a pancake that's fallen to the floor. Before she can tell them to stop, Light's drawing back his fist again. Once more, Ryuuzaki's eyes flick to hers, as though to say, _watch. Watch me play him._

Light's second punch lands squarely in the center of Ryuuzaki's face.

"You know I'm stronger than I look."

His second kick sends them both flying again, tumbling head over heels.

Even that though, Misa is almost certain is part of the act. She's seen how hard Ryuuzaki can hit. The accuracy and control over his movements, but there's none of that now. His movements appear... amateur, meeting but not exceeding Light's skill level. Nothing like what she saw this morning. He's pulling his punches. Letting himself be yanked around by the chain between them instead of accounting for its movement.

Even in admitting that he has physical strength, he's still holding back and ensuring it fits with Light's perception of him.

The continue swapping blows, knocking over the furniture, and spilling tea on the rug. Ryuuzaki's eyes flick to hers again and again.

_See? This is my hand. These are the strings. The inner workings of the game. Watch me trap you._

Misa doesn't know whether to feel some misplaced sense of pride at knowing something Light doesn't, or mortal fear about what she still does not know. Still at the very least she is certain of one thing: the person that she and Light refer to as "Ryuuzaki" is nothing more than a fiction created by L. A character. A part to play.

She should know. She is an actress after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update, yay! thank you for all the positive feedback and sweet comments on the last few chapters. I hope you enjoy this new instalment! stay safe n healthy!


	4. just a crosshair, just a shot away from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kira’s identity is like an itch in the back of her skull. An irritation beneath her skin. He’s a fake—a liar. She wants to see his face, to identify the person behind the false hope that she and so many others had so willingly clung to. Misa’s never been much for liars (a hypocritical dislike, but a dislike nonetheless). She doesn’t know what she’ll do to Kira when she finds him, but she sure as hell won’t let the task force put him away before she can get at him._

**5th September 2007, 1:26 PM - Spring Eighteen Set, Parking Lot, Tokyo**  


“Good!” Misa calls, flipping up the visor on her helmet and placing a foot firmly on the ground to stop her motorcycle from moving further. Repeating the steps in her head she carefully shuts off the bike and flicks out the kickstand before dismounting. 

“Seems like you’re getting the hang of it already. Good work.” The director sounds approving, maybe even impressed. 

He’d been surprised when Misa informed him that she was more than willing to learn to drive a motorcycle for the _ Spring Eighteen _ film. She’d been honest: she’d gone on a couple dates with a few men (boys, really) who drove bikes. The interest in them had faded, but not in motorcycles. The feeling of air streaming all around her, the focus required to remain alive. Alertness. Freedom. Rebellion. It’s enough to make her more than eager to learn. 

The first few lessons had been painfully dull. Her instructor was overly cautious, clearly uncomfortable with her insistence on doing her own stunts. Still, Misa had paid attention and practiced enough that Nishinaka signed off on her continued training. It’ll be a few weeks before they’ll shoot any scenes of her actually riding the bike, but it had already paid off in the form of a few dozen promo shots. 

“Thank you, sir!” She gushes, pulling off her helmet. “I’m always excited to try something new. Who knows? Maybe racing’s my second calling” 

The man laughs at that and tells her to keep training, before walking away back towards the doors to the set. He’s a good director—clear and detailed without being overbearing. Misa likes him.

Even more so than him, she likes the fresh air and independence that comes with her work. It had taken a good bit of cajoling, but eventually, the task force (Ryuzaki) had agreed that it would only appear unusual for her not to return to the public eye after her “wellness sabbatical.” As it turned out, it actually did her career some good: the notion that she’s taking the time to reflect and step away from the social media frenzy had lent her a much-needed air of maturity and seriousness. It was only a few weeks later that the offered role for  _ Spring Eighteen _ came in. 

Now, on set, she’s at least out from underneath the microscopic scrutiny of the task force for a few hours a day. Of course, they refuse to let her one-hundred percent out of their sight and so Matsuda is now her “manager” who supervises her during the workday. Honestly, he’s not that bad at it. Friendly and personable, he’s been able to blend in pretty well for the most part.

As if on cue, the man in question jogs over to her holding out a water bottle that she sips from gratefully. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he notes. “Well done, Miss Amane.” 

For some reason, the title sounds wrong coming from him. Maybe it’s because he can’t be more than a few years older than her, or maybe it’s because of Ryuzaki’s insistence on calling her the same thing. 

“It’s Misa-Misa, Matsuda,” she says, pouting. “How many times am I going to have to tell you?” 

He ducks his head, flushing sheepishly. “Sorry. Next time, I promise.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and shrugs. “You sound too much like Ryuzaki when you call me that,  _ not _ my manager.” 

“Ah, sorry!” He apologizes blushing even more deeply. 

Taking pity on him she giggles and waves her hand, before turning back to the bike. 

Yeah, work could be far, far worse. 

She spends the rest of the afternoon training and running lines with the rest of the cast. There are only a few more table reads before they’ll begin shooting one of the first scenes. Her mind thrums with excitement. The production is really happening. 

Her good mood lasts all the way back to the headquarters. Not even the sight of the tall, austere building can put a damper in her cheer. _ It’s been a good day _ , she tells herself firmly,  _ so don’t let them get to you now.  _

Logically, she knows that Light doesn’t mean to be such a downer. He’s so caught up in the task force, in catching Kira, that he can’t possibly have enough time to spend it with her whenever she wants. 

“Matsuda, Miss Amane, glad to see you’re back.” Mr. Yagami stands as they enter the main room, a friendly smile crossing his face. There’s something apologetic about the man even now, which makes Misa certain he still feels guilt for mistrusting her and his own son for so long. Not to mention threatening to execute them. 

“Thank you, Mr. Yagami!” She says, striding toward where he stands beside Light and Ryuzaki who remain hunched over their monitors. “How did your work go? Any progress with the investigation?” 

“You know we couldn’t tell you even if there was. Considering you’re still a prime suspect,” Ryuzaki repeats the same response he always gives her whenever she asks about the Kira Case, though he doesn’t sound annoyed at her continued inquiries. 

She sticks out her tongue at the back of his head. “Don’t be so boring, Ryuzaki. I just want to know if I can help!” 

“Admit you’re the Second Kira. That would help.” 

“When are you going to quit with that?” Light snaps, glancing over at the detective. “You know it isn’t possible for either of us to be Kira based upon our confinement.” 

“No, I know it looks that way.” Ryuzaki is as calm as ever. “That doesn’t mean that it  _ is _ impossible.” 

“You are absolutely no fun.” She frowns at him. 

He shrugs and turns back to his computer, immediately absorbed in his work once more. Really, she shouldn’t expect him to tell her anything. Why would he? But she can’t help but vainly hope that he’ll get lazy one day and let something slip. Everyone makes mistakes, after all. 

In truth, Misa hasn’t cared to examine her own motivations for attempting to get involved in the investigation. Before she’d wanted nothing to do with it—hadn’t wanted to risk that she’d somehow stumble upon something and lead Ryuzaki to find Kira. Hadn’t wanted to endanger her ‘God.’ It makes her want to laugh. 

Kira’s identity is like an itch in the back of her skull. An irritation beneath her skin. He’s a fake—a liar. She wants to see his face, to identify the person behind the false hope that she and so many others had so willingly clung to. Misa’s never been much for liars (a hypocritical dislike, but a dislike nonetheless). She doesn’t know what she’ll do to Kira when she finds him, but she sure as hell won’t let the task force put him away before she can get at him. 

Still, this moment is as fruitless as the rest. That much is clear. Ryuzaki has no interest in entertaining her questions and the rest of the task force is far too dedicated to their work to even think about speaking to her. She’ll take a run at Matsuda while they’re at work, maybe he’ll give up a crumb, though it’s probably a dead end. 

Irritation rising in her chest she turns and stalks to the stairs, heading for her room (always the stairs, never the elevator. She could use the extra cardio). It’s Light’s voice that stops her, “Misa, wait.” 

She can’t keep herself from whirling around far too quickly. “Yes, darling?” 

He’s not looking at her, his eyes on a file in front of him. “I won't be able to make our date tonight. I’ve got a lot to look over and it’s just not possible..” 

Her nails dig into her palm behind her back. “Don’t worry about it! We’ll just have to have an extra-fun date this weekend!” 

Before he can say anything else, she marches up the steps, forcing down the dull ache in her chest. It’s not the sharp sting of rejection that came the first time he postponed one of their dinner dates. Hell, from the start the word ‘date’ had been a stretch assigned by her. Light (and Ryuzaki, always attached via their chain) would stop by her room and eat whatever dinner she’d either made or ordered for them. She’d do her best to keep the conversation going between the two of them and ignore Ryuzaki’s watchful gaze. The whole affair would last an hour or so before he’d excuse himself, leaving her to clean up their dishes and wipe off her carefully done makeup. 

It’d worked for the first month or so, but when their Thursday date night rolls around, he’s always ready with an excuse. 

It hurts, but the feeling is dulled by the simultaneous relief she feels. 

She loves him. Her Light. Bright, clever, gorgeous. Everything she could possibly want in a boyfriend—everything she  _ should _ want. 

But Misa Amane is no one’s fool. She’s not blind to the way he answers her questions with as little elaboration as possible. How he doesn’t comment on the dishes she cooks or ask about how she spends her days filming. 

_ He’s distracted by the case _ , she tells herself firmly.  _ Of course he is, he wants to catch Kira because he’s a good person. Someone who understands justice. _

It’s just another reason that she wants to help find Kira as soon as possible. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner she’ll be able to actually spend some quality time with Light. 

At least that’s what she tells herself. It’s getting harder to believe. 

Her night is quiet. She calls Maiko and talks to her as she eats reheated soup from the night before. Thankfully, Maiko has more than a few stories to tell her about her coworkers and friends, and Misa’s happy to let her sister talk her ear off as she sips her dinner. She stays on the phone as she washes up the dishes and puts them in the rack, only hanging up when Maiko tells her that she’s got to go because her work requires her to get up early. 

“Don’t worry, same here!” She chirps, trying to inject some enthusiasm in her tone. 

Thankfully, she seems to buy her act and lets her go. 

The apartment is far too quiet without the familiar voice. Clearly, the building is extremely well-made since the sounds of the bustling city below are entirely muffled. Though that could be due to how far up her floor is. 

There’s nothing else for her to do once she’s wiped down the counters and coffee table, so she gets ready for bed. At least an early night will afford her the ability to wake up early in the morning. 

She slips into a dreamless sleep. 

**6th September 2007, 5:15 AM - Kira Investigation HQ, Tokyo**  


One of the best things about her rigorous shooting schedule is that it gives her a built-in excuse for the odd hours she keeps. When she has to leave by seven every morning, it only makes sense that she’d need to work out early as well. No one can fault her for looking after her figure, especially while filming. At least she hopes that’s what the others think. No doubt Ryuzaki sees straight through her ruse, but then again, he doesn’t seem keen to have the others knowing about his fitness regime either, based upon his early morning workouts. 

She doesn’t have the confidence to confront him about it. Instead, she does the same thing she did that first morning: slip in and head to the treadmills. There, she runs till she’s pouring sweat, face flushed red. Through the walls echo the same consistent hits: muffled sounds of the detective training in the room over. Unlike the first morning, she doesn’t sneak down the hall to watch him. She just runs. 

Under her breath, she mutters the lines from the scene they’ll be shooting today. It’s nothing too difficult, just a conversation in a coffee shop setting. Still, it’ll look good if she has her lines down flawlessly. 

“ _ Oh, wow, I didn’t expect to see you here _ ,” she recites, between panted breaths. “ _ Though I can’t say that I’m displeased. It must be fate how we keep running into one another. _ ” 

A deadpan voice rings out behind her, making her falter and nearly fall: “Fate’s an illusion, Miss Amane. Surely, even you would be aware of that.”

She hops up onto the sides of the treadmill before she can trip up, craning her neck to look over her shoulder. 

Ryuzaki stands, hands in his pockets in the doorway of the cardio room. He must have finished his workout early. Before this, she’s always left first. Though it’s strange to see him with his hair pulled back and wearing athletic gear—a black long sleeve shirt and shorts—it’s stranger to see him with actual  _ life _ in his face. Flushed cheeks and bright eyes (though they still have the same bored expression as always). No doubt it’s due to the exercise, but still, it’s...unsettling. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that, especially not while they’re exercising.” She scowls and climbs off the treadmill. 

Though it’s annoying to cut her run short, she’s far more curious about just why on earth Ryuzaki’s decided to come to speak to her of his own volition. Since coming to headquarters, all their interactions have been prompted by her: saying ‘bye’ when she leaves, and a ‘hello’ when she returns, just benign niceties. This is a break in the pattern. 

“Where’s Light?” She asks, crossing her arms. “I thought you were supposed to be connected at all times? And since when do you care about exercise?” 

“Asleep.” He shrugs. “And you’ve known about my regimen for weeks if I am correct. No reason to pretend otherwise. Though I suppose I could ask the same of you. Why are you here every morning, Miss Amane?” 

“It’s important to remain fit,” she says, calmly. “Otherwise I won’t get as many jobs. I have to look my best.” 

He blinks slowly, before looking her up and down. Instinctively, she wants to call him a pervert, but it’s more out of habit than actual discomfort. Since she first encountered Ryuzaki, she’s quickly realized that his extended gaze lacks the insidious desire she’s used to receiving when men look at her for too long. Sure he’s looking, but not in that way. 

No, it’s clear that to him she’s not some sort of object to desire. He’s trying to solve her. To look at her like a puzzle. To figure out exactly all the inner workings of her brain and pick them apart till he finds the info that he wants. 

And that is far, far more dangerous now than adolescent-gawking at her in running gear. 

“You’re lying.” 

“I’m not!” she denies, sharply. “You can’t just decide why I like to work out.” 

“No, but I can tell that you aren’t doing it to get on the cover of a magazine. You’re here too often for that. Unless I suppose you’re trying to branch into athletic modeling….You aren’t though.” It’s all said in his usual, annoyingly matter-of-fact tone. 

Taking a long breath she schools her face into something hopefully less-infuriated than she feels before speaking again: “I just like to get regular exercise.” 

“There’s a difference between regular exercise and 5am sprints.” His eyes leave hers briefly, wandering down to her sneakers again. “You’re going to need new shoes soon.” 

It’s early. Too early for her to be as amiable as she should be. That compounded with some lingering irritation at Light’s ditching of their date-night again is what makes her snap. 

“Why should I have to explain myself to you?” She hisses, slapping the ‘off’ button on the machine. “Why are  _ you _ here, Ryuzaki? What happened to the detective that sits for ten hours a day? Why would you need to train every day? Just to show off when you beat up my boyfriend?  _ Just who the hell are you?” _ She hadn’t meant to say the last part, but it spills from her mouth nonetheless. 

He tilts his head to the side. “Firstly, you have to explain yourself to me because you are under suspicion of being a mass-murderer. The Second Kira. Secondly, physical exertion benefits brain function. And lastly, I’m almost certain that is none of your business.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that he looks almost pleased with himself. Like he’s amused by his ability to dangle her entrapment above his head. 

“Now who’s the liar, then?” she snarls, stalking toward him. “You judge Kira for playing god—but you’re doing the same exact thing on a smaller scale. You’re controlling our lives and deciding that you’re some ‘do-er of justice.’ Well, that’s no different than Kira’s bullshit, is it?” 

Tears are threatening, tears of anger, and frustration. She forces them back, makes herself stop, standing with balled fists a few yards from him. Nothing she can do is going to hurt him—her arguing only implicates herself further.

“This doesn’t even matter does it?” She tries and fails to keep the defeat from her voice as her shoulders slump. “You say that Light and I are here to be observed, but that’s a lie. Just like everything else. You don’t even pretend to have doubts. You’ve already decided that I’m the Second Kira when you don’t even know a thing about me. This is pointless.” 

Ryuzaki blinks at her, expression wide-eyed, but steadfastly blank. 

Quickly, she turns away, unable to keep the hot tears from rolling down her face any longer. It’s too much. Even as much as she tries to tell herself that they’ll find the real Kiras, she can feel the weight of his certainty like a chain around her throat. Sure, here she can walk around and pretend to live her life, but really, it’s no different from her confinement before.

She’s trapped. 

Hands shaking, she grabs her gym bag from beside the treadmill and zips it up. She slings it over her shoulder and strides across the room, eyes still on the ground. Ryuzaki steps aside, allowing her to pass through the doorway. 

“Miss Amane,” He says, making her stop at the door to exit the gym. “It seems you’ve pointed out an important misstep in my observation of yourself and Light Yagami. For that, I owe you thanks.” 

She frowns, wiping her face on her sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

For a split second, he seems torn, as though deciding whether or not he should elaborate on his cryptic statement. After a long moment, he speaks again: “I’ve been basing much of my assessment on whether or not it makes logistical sense for you and Light Yagami to act as the Kiras. Which, as I’ve made clear, it does—” 

“Except for our confinement!” She snaps, leaning against the door. “You better hurry up and tell me something I haven’t heard a thousand times before.” 

“I am getting to that, Miss Amane. While there are flaws in the logistical intricacies of your being Kira, up until this point I’ve considered it a given that you have the motivation and  _ potential _ to behave as such. That is the flaw.” 

Of fucking course he would phrase it in such an obnoxious way that she’d have to ask him further questions. The egotistical bastard.

“And?” 

“And that is short-sided of me. I’ve been lax in my attention to details that have not fit with my initial profiling of you both.” 

“Get to your point.” 

“I will still be gauging whether or not you could be Kira; however, with a greater focus on personality and temperament. Potential not based upon your technical ability but rather if you could ‘handle it’ so to speak. Basically, consider this a moment of reset as it were.” 

She drums her fingers against the doorknob. “Meaning?” 

A sharper look flickers over his face. A brief break in neutrality. “Meaning that you would be foolish to consider my mind made up. Prove to me you aren’t the Second Kira. Or prove you are. It’s the same for me. Understood?” 

Ryuzaki’s as much of a liar as she is. An actor. That much is clear. Switching between his eccentric detective stance and that of a quick-thinking predator as though it’s nothing. But she can’t detect any deception at the moment. He’s genuinely telling her that he’s giving her a ‘second chance’ or something like that.

“I will prove to you that I can’t possibly be the Second Kira, because I am not,” she says firmly. “So watch closely, Ryuzaki. Wouldn’t want you to make another mistake.” 

With that, she pulls the door open. 

“One other thing, if you don’t mind.” 

“What?” She stops again and glances at her watch. Nearly, six-thirty. She needs to get ready. “Hurry up!” 

“Don’t tell anyone about this conversation. After all, it wouldn't due to have the rest of the task force feel as though I’m conspiring with a suspect.” 

She’s not sure what to say to that, she just nods and walks through the door, shutting it behind her. Before she can think twice, she bolts into the elevator and slaps the button for her floor. Once the doors slide shut, she lets out a long shaky breath, legs buckling as she slides to the floor. 

There’s a chance that she’ll make it out of this if she keeps her wits about her. Especially considering that the courtesy Ryuzaki just extended to her seems to be one known only to the two of them. 

Misa knows better than to let such an opportunity get away. It’s the role of a lifetime really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's been quite a while. Thank you for sticking around and supporting this fic! I hope you enjoy this next update!!


	5. pucker up for heaven's sake (there's never been so much at stake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She needs to figure out what it is that he knows._
> 
> _Maybe that’s the truth behind it then. She wants to be closer to Light, to see him. But she needs to be closer to Ryuzaki. To understand exactly how he thinks they are playing this game in order to win against him._
> 
> Matsuda makes a mistake while investigating the Yotsuba Group and provides Misa a valuable opening to act on her agreement with Ryuzaki.

**October 8th, 2007 - 9:42 PM, Spring Eighteen Set, Tokyo**

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Quickly, she caps her water bottle and pulls it out. She can’t help the sudden flutter in her chest—Light. He never calls her, but she supposes there’s a first time for everything. 

“Hello, darling!” Misa exclaims, holding it up to her ear. 

“Are you with Matsuda?” It’s crisp and professional as always, but she’s almost certain that she can detect an edge of panic in Light’s usually calm tone. 

She glances around frowning. The man in question is nowhere in sight. In fact, the last time she saw him must have been close to half an hour ago. He’d brought her a quick snack to eat between takes before returning to his designated chair at the edge of the set. Now, that chair is vacant. Matsuda’s gone. 

“No, has something happened?” Something has to have happened. He wouldn’t have called otherwise. At least the concern she feels for Matsuda helps her push aside the hurt that wells up in her chest as she realizes the impetus for her so-called boyfriend’s call.

Light swears under his breath and the line cracks. He’s probably adjusting the phone, wedging it between his shoulder and ear the way he does when he’s trying to focus. She easily can picture him: mouth pinched downwards in a frown, pleasant face marred with frustration. Light’s always uglier when he’s at work. Not that she often sees him when he’s not working. 

Ryuzaki’s voice distantly rings out through the receiver. “Matsuda’s gone to the Yotsuba Corporation headquarters.” 

Yotsuba, huh? She’d heard the name tossed around at headquarters when the others thought she wasn’t paying attention. Since her conversation with Ryuzaki, she’s made an effort to be more present when the task force is meeting, though always under the pretext of wanting to spend time with Light (that part isn't entirely untrue she  _ does _ want to see him). He'd been adamantly against it at first, reminding her that they were both under investigation still and that she needed to be careful. Mr. Yagami seemed to agree with his son until Ryuzaki got involved. 

“What does it matter if she’s around? It’s not as though she understands what we’re discussing. We’re wasting time.” 

He hadn’t looked up from his laptop as he spoke, but the meaning had rung out all the same. Misa could stay, so long as she kept up the ruse. It was good enough. No doubt he’d be evaluating her the entire time, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Prove to Ryuzaki that she isn’t the Second Kira and Light isn’t the first? This means that she needs to understand exactly how Ryuzaki’d gotten the notion it was them in the first place. 

She needs to figure out what it is that he knows. 

Maybe that’s the truth behind it then. She wants to be closer to Light, to see him. But she _needs_ to be closer to Ryuzaki. To understand exactly how he thinks they are playing this game in order to win against him. 

“Yotsuba? Where’s that?” She asks, twirling her hair around her finger and ignoring the glare from the makeup artist waiting to re-apply her powder before the next scene. 

The Yotsuba building is nearby. She’d looked it up on Matsuda’s phone one day when he ran to the bathroom. In fact, she memorized it after she realized how close it is to where they’re shooting. It’s a coincidence, yes, but a useful one. Especially now that Matsuda’s gone and fucked up. It’s just the opening she needs.

“That’s of no concern—” Light begins, but she loses track of what he’s saying as her other phone goes off in her purse. 

She grabs it and flips it open. “Light, Matsuda’s calling me.” 

“Answer it!” 

“Hello! Misa-Misa here!” She chips, holding the second phone up to her other ear. 

“Misa-Misa! Your manager here. I’ve got ahold of an exclusive ad-campaign opportunity with Yotsuba Corporations that would be wonderful for your portfolio.” 

“Oh, wow! Yotsuba! That’s fantastic, I had no idea they were considering me for their campaign.” 

“They weren’t, but I stopped by and had a meeting with the executives and they’d like you to stop by to discuss the potential logistics of it!” His voice is lively, but Matsuda’s no actor. She can hear the strain in his tone, no doubt due to terror.

“Under no circumstances are you to go to the Yotsuba Headquarters, you understand that Misa, don’t you?” Light hisses in her other ear. 

“Actually, it would be extremely beneficial if Misa were to accept and head to the Yotsuba building. Then we’d have two sets of eyes on their operation.” Ryuzaki sounds almost uncertain as he speaks, but his meaning is as clear as day to her: she’s being given another chance. 

“You have to be joking.” 

“I’d never joke about Misa-Misa’s career. This is quite the opportunity,” Ryuzaki says, as monotone as ever. “Go meet Matsuda and discuss the ads with the executives. In fact, why don’t you invite them here, for a party with the other members of Yoshida productions?” 

“How can you say that?” Light snarls. "Are you trying to put everyone in danger?"  


“We need a means of getting them back, don’t we? Unless you’d prefer we hand over both Matsuda and Miss Misa to Yotsuba to do as they please?” 

_ Yes, yes, yes!  _ She wants to jump with excitement. This is exactly what she’s been waiting for. A chance to prove herself, to show that she isn’t the Second Kira by helping the taskforce. 

“Alrighty, will-do! You can count on me, Ryuzaki!’ She snaps her phone shut just as Light begins to speak again. Without missing a beat, she presses her other phone to her ear. “You still there?” 

“Yes! Of course,” Matsuda assures her quickly. 

“Please tell them that I’m on my way. See you soon!” She blows a kiss into the receiver and stuffs her phone into her bag. 

She needs to move fast, but instead of nerves in her throat, all she feels is adrenaline, buzzing in her veins. 

It only takes a moment to flag down the director, who’d been watching her exchange with a look of confusion. He listens tentatively as she rattles off an excuse about a crisis with her sister. Thankfully, bags line his eyes and clearly, the notion of an early night is an appealing one. Nonetheless, he frowns deeply and tells her not to expect another favor as he dismisses her for the night. 

The words aren’t even fully out of his mouth before she’s striding back into the dressing trailer, costume tech rushing after her as she begins pulling off her attire. Thankfully it’s just a long dress and a set of faux wings. There’s something ironic about her being dressed like an angel, but she doesn’t have time to figure out the punchline of the joke, too busy yanking on her clothes. She doesn’t bother with her makeup—it’s more silvery and glittery than she’d usually go for, but who really cares?

There are lives at stake. Matsuda’s, along with both hers and Light’s. 

There are some perks, she supposes, to having a boyfriend as unconcerned as Light. He doesn’t notice when she buys a new dress. Or when she wears the same pair of beaten up black combat boots every day. No, despite her insistence on wearing the same, familiar pair of black leather boots (a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday), he’d not taken any notice, much less commented.

Honestly, it had been a bit of a nuisance at first, after all, investigation or not, Misa has an image to maintain. However, the press quickly declared them a ‘signature look’ of hers, so really it wasn’t an issue. 

They didn’t catch on either. 

Not to the fact that wearing them for so long had left the leather as moulded to her feet as any sneaker. More than adequate for a short run and twice as protective. 

She wonders if Ryuzaki’s noticed. 

It takes all her willpower to walk down the street until she’s out of sight of the production team. It’s unusual for a star to depart so hastily, so it only makes sense that they’d watch with a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

Once she’s rounded the corner though, she’s free. Turning, she bolts down an alleyway to her right, boots pounding the slightly damp pavement below her feet. Thud, thud, thud. One footfall after the other, as she careens through the back streets that make up the route she’s memorized toward the Yotsuba building. Normally, it’d take about fifteen minutes. This way it’d only take eight if she walked. 

And Misa never walks if she doesn’t have to. 

As she runs, laughter bubbles up in her chest, happiness swelling. Freedom. That’s the feeling that’s clawing its way up her throat. Dashing through the narrow back streets with nothing but the stagnant autumn air and the rhythmic beating of her feet on the streets below—it’s the first time in months that she can breathe, properly breathe, without anyone watching her every move. 

She’s free. 

As the Yotsuba building comes into sight, she slows her steps. Who knows if they’ve got people watching for her? Taking a few deep inhales, she forces herself to calm. As much as it pains her, now’s not the time to get caught up in the feeling of independence. She has to earn that first, by getting Matsuda out of there. 

Pasting on a broad smile, she strides to the front doors and enters the towering glass building. The air inside is frigid, and she resists the urge to wrap her arms around herself as she approaches the secretary waiting at a broad desk in front of the elevators. 

“Hello! Misa-Misa here to meet with my manager and the Executive Board,” She tells the man brightly. 

“Just a moment, please.” He ducks down to no doubt check that she’s expected. “Ah, yes, Misa Amane, eighteenth floor. Use the elevators to your right.” 

For a split second, she hesitates, considering asking if there were stairs. She can’t, even though the extra time would be useful. Matsuda has no idea about what she is and isn’t capable of. Appearances after all. 

She strides to the elevators and presses the ‘up’ button. Moments later the chrome doors part, revealing a crisp, compartment, with one wall made of glass allowing her to look out at the city. Quickly she presses the button for both the eighteenth floor and to close the door. The last thing she’s in the mood for is small talk with a stranger. 

The world zooms by as the elevator rises, the skyline spreading out before her. The Kira HQ is nowhere in sight, but it’s almost comforting knowing it’s out there. Even far away, her Light is there, looking out for her. 

The fleeting feeling of comfort quickly dissipates as she recalls that Ryuzaki is no doubt also going to be scrutinizing everything she does (Matsuda will tell him everything. Manager or not, she knows who he really answers to). 

There’s no time for further contemplation as the doors part, opening up to a large lounge space. The black and gold decor is a little more modern and minimalistic than she cares for, but it’s clearly well-decorated. 

“Misa-Misa!” Matsuda’s voice rings out. The man stands up from a pair of dark leather couches on the far side of the room. On the sofa opposite him are two sharply dressed men, their mouths pressed into thin lines. One has dark hair and slightly protruding eyes, the other a wider jaw and white hair. She knows their type; CEOs that think that just because they’ve got money they hold the power in every situation. The type of men that stare at her on the subway and think she won’t stomp on their toes the second she gets the chance. 

“Hey there! Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting!” She walks over to where they are, turning her charm up to ten. “I’m Misa-Misa! And you’ve already met my manager, Mr. Taro Matsui. Thank you so much for considering me for your upcoming ad campaign. It’s truly an honor!” 

They glance between one another before the white-haired one clears his throat. “I’m Mr. Arayoshi Hatori, VP of marketing here at Yotsuba Group. This is my college, Mr. Suguru Shimura, Head of Personnel.” 

“Ah, well, I’m pleased to meet you both! Thank you for meeting with my manager on such short notice.” 

“Yes, well, the circumstances are highly unusual—” Mr. Shimura begins. 

She cuts him off with her best puppy-dog look. “I know, sir, and apologize for any inconvenience. It was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. My manager was merely acting on my bequest. Again, thank you.” 

Carefully, she shifts, stepping in front of Matsuda. Hopefully, they’ll simply dismiss it as a reminder that  _ she’s _ the one calling the shots as the up and coming talent, and not an attempt to protect him. Like it or not, Matsuda’s safety is now her responsibility. More than that, though, she needs Ryuzaki to see that she’s working to protect the taskforce. 

“Miss Amane it would be highly inappropriate to offer you such a lucrative position without further talks. And the notion that we would simply, hand you the job after the behavior of your management team...it’s underheard of,” Mr. Hatori says, frowning. 

She nods, furrowing her brows. “Of course, Mr. Hatori. I wouldn’t expect anything less of such a well-respected corporation.” It’s slight, but his mouth quirks at that. Vain bastard. “Which is why I’d love to invite you and the other senior members of the Yotsuba Group back to my management headquarters in order to discuss the details. A get together with the other Yoshida Productions agency talent. I’m sure you would be able to better evaluate my suitability this way.” 

Both men blink and she thinks she hears Matsuda let out a nervous wheeze behind her. 

“Please, the other girls would absolutely love to meet you all, we’ve all heard so much about the Yotsuba Group’s success. It’s truly remarkable.” She tilts her head to the side, batting her eyes at them both. 

“Er, allow us a moment to speak with our other members. Please, excuse us.” Mr. Shimura lurches toward a nearby set of doors, followed quickly by Mr. Hatori. 

As soon as they’ve disappeared, Misa lets out a breath and sits down on the couch, Matsuda following soon after. He doesn’t speak, merely gives her a panicked look. 

“Isn’t this exciting!” She says, leaning back as though relaxed. “It seems like the members of the Yotsuba Group might really want to meet the Yoshida Production team. Everyone back at headquarters is so excited!” 

For a moment he appears confused before a look of understanding passes over his face. He gives her a nearly imperceptible nod, just as the doors open again. Now there are eight of them in total. This must be the entire of Yotsuba’s Executive Board. Good. That means they’re rising to the bait. 

“We discussed and have decided that it would indeed benefit our decision-making process to speak with the Yoshida Production company. If you provide us with the address, we’ll meet you there,” Mr. Hatori says, gesturing to his colleagues. 

“Fantastic!” She bounces up from her seat, pulling Matsui with her. “Give them one of my cards would you? They’ve got the address on them.” 

Matsuda nods and pulls a few cards from his pocket, passing them to the Yotsuba group members. 

“Excellent,” Mr. Shimura says. “We look forward to continuing our discussions shortly. Will you two mind seeing yourselves out?” 

“Of course not,” she says, waving. “See you all in just a minute. Call if you get lost.” 

She turns, resisting the urge to drag Matsuda with her. Thankfully, he’s right on her heels, practically stepping on her toes as they walk into the elevator. 

Under the eerie green-white lighting, she can see a few beads of sweat trickling down his temple. He gives her a brief shaky smile but doesn’t speak. No doubt they’re being watched on the building security cameras, better not to say anything until they’re sure to be alone. 

It feels like a lifetime before the pair is walking out into the evening air. A familiar black sedan is waiting out front, Mogi in the driver's seat. He gives them a nod and they pull the door open clambering into the backseat. 

“Christ I thought, I thought that was it,” Matsuda gasps, as though he’d been holding his breath the entire time. “Misa-Misa, you’ve just saved my life.” 

She laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet, we’ve still got a party to go to.” 

Mogi pulls away from the curb, zooming toward the task force headquarters. Somewhere, among the sea of cars surrounding them, are the members of the Yotsuba group, all heading for the same destination.

Her phone chirps loudly in her pocket, breaking the strained silence in the car. She pulls it out and flicks it open. Light, again? She supposes that isn’t surprising, considering the situation, but still, her heart flutters in her chest. 

Smiling, she answers the call. “Yes, my darling?” 

“Hm, I don’t think so,” Ryuzaki’s flat voice replies. “Have you and Matsuda made it out?” 

She huffs. “Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have answered. Why are you calling me from Light’s phone?” 

“Because I’d prefer it if you both survived the night. Put me on speakerphone and pay attention.” 

He’s right, even though they’ve temporarily made it away from the Yotsuba group, now they have to deal with the added danger of navigating a party with all the different members, without alerting them to the ongoing Kira investigation. The real struggle is only just beginning. 

Misa swallows hard and hits the speakerphone button. “Okay, what do we need to do?” 

It’s going to be a very long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back!! long time, no update, but it's finally here! another chapter!! i hope you enjoy it!!


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